


The Ghosts of a Christmas Past

by Soledad



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M, Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 01:44:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/668848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soledad/pseuds/Soledad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Radek and his Athosian wife share a moment at Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ghosts of a Christmas Past

**Author's Note:**

> Although it nominally belongs to the "Moments of Joy" AU, this story stands alone. For a short while, I considered making it a prologue to "Moments of Joy" but in the end decided against it, as that story has already gone through too many changes for this one to fit in neatly.

**[Atlantis, shortly after the 2 nd Season episode “Trinity”]**

It was past midnight when Dr. Radek Zelenka, one of the lead scientists of Atlantis, finally left his lab. His colleagues and, indeed, the great majority of the Atlantis crew, went to the Christmas party organized by the department heads in one of the large gathering places, the purpose of which nobody had been able to guess so far. They were safe from the Wraith – for the moment anyway – and it was only understandable that they wanted to forget their worries for a while.

Radek, on the other hand, didn’t feel like partying. All too well did he remember all of those people who could not participate this year’s Christmas party – because they were dead. Too many had died already, too soon, under horrible circumstances.

There was Colonel Sumner, to begin with. Radek had known the man from Antarctica, and while he didn’t like the military mindset too much, he had to admit that Colonel Sumner had been a good, honest, reliable man. And he had been their first comrade they had lost to the Wraith. The first of too many. He hadn’t even had enough time to get settled in Atlantis.

Then there were Radek’s fellow scientists, fallen victim to the hallucinatory virus. Dr. Petersen, a true engineering genius… no one could handle Ancient technology like Willem Petersen, not even McKay himself, no matter what the head scientist liked to think. Radek had liked to work with Petersen. The calm, relaxed atmosphere the man had usually created matched Radek’s own style a lot better than McKay’s idiosyncrasies. Poor Will, he could have made great achievements here. What a waste…

And the others. Wagner, a good-natured, pleasant Austrian, who could make coffee like nobody else. Johnson, who always had a joke ready to tell. Dumais, who had always been a little frightened when exploring some abandoned part of the city, as if the Athosian superstitions had rubbed off on her. And Hays, how well he could play the accordion in the multinational Christmas songs. Gone, all gone, within a few hours.

Radek didn’t think he could face another Christmas party. Ever. Not with those memories before his mind’s eye.

And then there was Peter Grodin. A good friend and a brilliant scientific mind. Radek had been trying _not_ to think of Grodin all day. Trying _not_ to remember how Grodin had been standing in the middle of the Gate room, with a notepad in his hands, watching over the life of the entire city, all the time. Dr. Weir might be the leader of Atlantis, but Peter Grodin had been the heart and soul of the community. The community he had died for.

So many had died. Radek hadn’t even known all of them, not the soldiers anyway. He only remembered Sergeant Jamie Markham because the young man had been such an excellent pilot, and because they had worked on the puddle jumpers together for a while. But there had been others killed to save the city, killed to protect the Athosians on the mainland – killed to protect _him_.

Had he truly deserved such sacrifice? Yes, he was smart, brilliant even, but so were most of the others. And there wasn’t really anyone waiting for him back on Earth. Alšbeta had left him long before he got hired for the Antarctica project, not wanting to be the lonely wife of an underpaid scientist who’d spent twice as much time in his lab than in their home. And Hanka – he had seen her so rarely that his daughter, now six years old, perhaps didn’t even remember having a father at all.

Which was the reason why Radek had joined the Atlantis expedition to begin with. He never expected to return home – or to survive. Yet here he still was, while so many others had died.

Halling would probably say that the Ancestors had chosen to protect him for a reason only they could understand, and that he should thankfully accept it and go on with his life. But as much as he liked and respected Halling, for Radek things were not that simple. Nor did he really trust the Ancients, ascended beings or not. They had turned out to be wrong, ignorant or downright cruel too often.

Besides, with a past like his, growning up behind the Iron Curtain, trust did not come easily. He found it particularly hard to trust any so-called higher powers. Especially when said powers didn’t seem to care much for the life – or death – of the little man. He had seen too much of that in his youth. The Ancients, the government or the Party – what was the difference? Those without power or influence were never anything but chess pieces for them, without the slightest hope to even _understand_ the game, much less to control it.

Radek secured the lab behind him and took the transporter to the corridor where he had been assigned quarters. Stepping into the small chamber, he studied his reflection on the shiny surface of the control panel before keying in his destination. With his disarrayed, longish hair and two-days-growth, he looked older than his actual age. _Much_ older, at least at the moment. He removed his glasses and rubbed his burning eyes tiredly. Maybe he really should opt for shorter working hours. He might be younger than he looked, but he wasn’t twenty anymore, either.

His face spoke of too many long hours spent in badly lit labs, crouched over microscopes and circuits and spare parts. It was the face of a middle-aged man who had used up his reserves too early. He shook his head. That wouldn’t do. He owed Marta to stay in a more or less acceptable shape. They had plans, and now, with the Wraith threat temporarily gone (again), he didn’t need to stay buried in his lab every night. He owed those who died to make his life worth living.

 

The transporter released him into his own corridor, only three doors away from his apartment. He keyed in the code – even though he knew that anyone with the ATA gene could override his door, it gave him a sense of safety, fake as it might be – and entered the living room, expecting it to be empty. Marta would be either sleeping in their bedroom or still attending to the party. Athosians took to Earth customs rather quickly.

He was surprised to discover the small, blanket-covered form of his wife resting on the sofa. Apparently, Marta had been waiting for him and fallen asleep over a book. Reading was still a new skill for her, and while she was eager to practice it, she also tired of it easily.

Radek carefully perched on the edge of the sofa and leaned over to kiss the face of his wife; it was soft and warm from sleep. He knew he was incredibly fortunate, having found someone to share his life with. Back then, more than a year ago, both Athosians and the members of the expedition had been shocked by his choice. Not only because he had decided to marry again, here, seemingly separated from home forever (nobody had counted on the coming of the _Daedalus_ yet), but also because he had chosen an Athosian woman as his new wife.

He still couldn’t understand the nay-sayers, the veiled hostility behind those ah-so-well-meaning arguments. Marta was a nice, intelligent woman (albeit unlearned like most Athosians) and barely ten years younger than him – hardly a naïve little girl anymore. Besides, as Carson had verified, Athosians and humans were genetically fully compatible. Why was it so wrong in so many people’s opinion that he wanted roots, a home, and a family? At that time, a return to Earth didn’t seem possible, and he didn’t want to spend his life alone.

Granted, the beginnings had been a bit… bumpy. The Athosians, Marta including, didn’t like living in the gigantic tin box that Atlantis, all things considered, in fact was. They missed the soil under their feet, the forest, the living and growing things. Radek understood that. But he was a scientist and an engineer; he couldn’t go to the mainland with the Athosians, living in a tent, digging up the earth to grow food all his life.

Discovering the long-abandoned greenhouses of Atlantis had helped solve the problem, at least partially. Marta was a skilled gardener and could work with the botanists there. That was a task she enjoyed, and it helped her to become accepted by the expedition members. In her spare time, she worked on turning their bleak, sterile apartment into a home.

 

Their living room now looked like a delightful mix of their different cultures. Woven carpets covered the cold metallic walls, giving the room a warm and decidedly exotic touch. A wall-to-wall carpet, hand-made by Marta from some sort of long, resilient grass, reminded one of the floor of Athosian tents. Athosian knick-knacks and small utensils blended surprisingly well with standard issue furniture and with the few personal items Radek had been able to bring from home.

_This_ was his home now, and the woman whose small, warm body fit into his arms so well was his family. He didn’t really care what the others said. He and Marta had built a life for themselves, on this ten-thousand-year-old Ancient monstrosity, in the shadow of the Wraith threat – no amount of nay-saying could take _that_ from them.

Marta must have felt his presence in her sleep, because she opened her eyes and looked into his face. A soft smile appeared in the corner of her mouth.

“You are home,” she said sleepily. “What time is it?”

“Late,” Radek admitted. “Too late. I’m sorry, _milácku_.”

“You were not at the party,” Marta said, waving off his apologies.

Radek nodded. “I couldn’t… I’ve told you why. Did you like it?”

Marta shrugged. “It was fun… for a while. When I grew tired, I came home.”

“Alone?” Radek frowned. Despite all the exploration they had done in the recent year, he still didn’t like the idea of his wife roaming the corridors alone at night.

“Of course not,” Marta struggled into sitting position and kissed the tip of his nose. “Teyla escorted me. She would never leave anyone in my condition unprotected.”

“You told her?” Radek asked. Marta wasn’t exactly showing yet, despite being in the fourth month already, and the loose clothes she preferred concealed any sign that was already there. They didn’t want to make her pregnancy public knowledge just yet, trying to lead as normal a life as possible, given the circumstances. Only Carson had been informed so far, and only because he was Marta’s doctor – _and_ a geneticist. They wanted to be sure that their first child would be healthy. Even though Marta had made eminently clear that she would have the baby, no matter what.

“I did not need to tell her,” she said. “Our people can recognize the changes in a pregnant woman’s body language. But she won’t tell anyone. It’s our child, and we choose the time to tell the others.”

“Come here,” Radek slid higher up onto the sofa and hugged her again. “How are you?”

“Tired but fine,” Marta replied, snuggling up against him. “You look tired, too.”

“I _am_ tired,” Radek admitted. “There is so much to do and so little time. I must keep eye on Rodney, too. He makes mistakes when upset. And he’s very upset right now.”

“You work too hard,” Marta pulled his head against her and her warm, gentle fingers began massaging his scalp. “You need more rest.”

“You’re right, _milácku_ ,” Radek murmured against the soft skin of her neck. “I’ve been neglecting you lately. _Promiòte._ I’m very sorry.”

“You are forgiven,” she replied, kissing the top of his head, where his hair had already begun thinning. “But I won’t always let you get away with it so easily, just that you know. I’m your wife. I’ve a right to my husband’s time and attention, too.” But there was a smile in her gentle voice.

“I’ll try to get home earlier,” he promised, looking up into her smiling face gratefully; what would he do without her? “I’ll better my ways. I promise.”

“No,” Marta laid a finger across his lips. “Promise nothing that you can’t keep. I know you are needed. You do important work. Just try to remember that the lab is not the _only_ place where you are needed.” She kissed him. “You are tired. Come to bed. You can give me my Christmas present tomorrow.”

“Who says I have Christmas present for you?” Radek teased, but he allowed her to lead him over to their bedroom.

“I know you,” Marta replied. “You would never forget something like that.”

She was right, of course. He _had_ organized her presents months ago. Carson had brought them from Earth personally. He only hoped she would like them. Jirina had a very good taste in clothes and had been happy to go shopping for her sister-in-law. If she only had half that taste in choosing her partners…

Radek shook his head. No, he will _not_ think about the ruined marriage and the bratty kid of his sister. Not tonight. He shed his clothes absent-mindedly and crawled under the down comforter – also a present from Jiøina – to his wife with a content sigh. It was good to hold her in his sleep.

Carson had advised against vigorous sexual activities in the first couple of months, as they couldn’t even guess the possible risk factor by the first interspecies pregnancy in their midst. Not that Radek would have been particularly inclined right now. He was too exhausted to even _want_ sex at the moment, not to mention indulging himself. But he was a natural born cuddler, snuggling up to Marta’s soft warmth under the soft warmth of the comforter from home was as close to Nirvana as he could imagine.

He would _not_ go to work tomorrow, he decided, spooning up behind his wife and hugging her close. He hadn’t had a day off since the spectacular disaster concerning the _Arcturus Project_ , was overworked and prone to make mistakes. He would stay at home, listen to Christmas songs in Czech, cut the apple as tradition dictated and share childhood memories with Marta. Perhaps if he made extraordinary efforts, Marta would finally understand the importance of _Sváty Mikulás_ in a child’s life.

  
~The End~


End file.
